


Drive

by KylosWetGlove (Bendu_the_Grey)



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Ben Solo Needs A Hug, Childhood Trauma, Drinking to Cope, Excessive Drinking, F/M, Manipulation, POV Ben Solo, POV Rey (Star Wars), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Racing, Reylo - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-21
Updated: 2020-06-05
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:41:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24296791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bendu_the_Grey/pseuds/KylosWetGlove
Summary: Ben Solo's life has spun completely out of control. After the loss of his father during a horrific accident, he quits racing and returns home, hoping to forget and be forgotten. But life has other plans. On the abandoned dusty roads of Jakku county, Ben Solo loses his father's dog and fabled car all in one day.  With a hangover from hell, he persues the thieves, but he is outmaneuvered, to his surprise by a slip of a girl and her crazy sidekick.Will he ever see Chewie or the Millennium Falcon again?
Relationships: Finn/Rose Tico, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 3
Kudos: 9





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I started this story a long long time ago. I recently took a look at it and the rest of my work and I've vowed to finish them up.  
> I haven't had this story beta'd so any mistakes are mine. I'll fix it as I find them.

In the darkest corner in perhaps the deadest bar on the west side of the Jakku County line sat a lone man nursing a bottle of Kessel beer. There was nothing noteworthy about him, long tousled black hair, a 5 o'clock shadow, a simple black t-shirt, and ripped jeans with hints of engine grease at the thighs. At first glance, he looked every bit a car mechanic having a well-deserved break. His demeanor, however, suggested otherwise. 

He tapped the red bottle cap on the worn tabletop with a nervous intensity that would have drawn him weary glances, that is if anyone had been there. Fortunately, for him, the only other soul in the bar tonight was the barkeep, old man Tekka. 

"Ah, c' mon—take — take it low he's all over your—damn it! Fucking amateur!" Ben slammed his large fist on the table with a powerful smack, rattling the half dozen empty beer bottles nearly off the edge. It wasn't the first time he had wandered into Tekka's place and gotten completely plastered. Since the beginning of the NASCAR season, he had strolled in, took a seat, and yelled at the outdated boxy television hanging over the bar. 

Tekka looked up at the TV just in time to watch the yellow caution flag waving over the starting line. Then slowly yet surely, the caution car pulled out onto the track as the black and orange Resistance sponsored race car made its way onto pitlane with a busted fender and a flat tire. The perky commentators, Paige Tico and Kaydel Connix, were still going on and on about poor track conditions due to a bout of torrential rain earlier in the day. Shaking his head, Tekka averted his attention back to drying an empty glass, periodically giving his only paying customer a quick glance.

Across the room, Ben pretended not to notice Tekka's eyes on him. Now bored by the repetitive broadcast, he furrowed his brow in deep intoxicated concentration as he meticulously peeled the dampened label from the beer bottle. Still, the condensation slicked against his fingers, and despite the care, he tore it in half.

"Fuck!" he barked.

"You know, I enjoy your company, Ben, I really do, but—"

"Don't start old man," he said, running his wet fingers through his hair, "not tonight."

Not tonight, indeed, this was  _ the _ night, the most prominent and final race of the season, The Kessel Run 500. 

Ben had pulled down the bill of his hat when he walked in hours earlier. A few older men were sitting at the bar, but all eyes were on the race— no, they were on Dameron. After several outbursts of curses, the older gentleman bid Tekka an apologetic goodnight, before casting disgruntled stares toward Ben's table.

Dameron's their favorite now, young, good looking, disgustingly charming in front of the press, a dream for any manager. He was also extremely reckless, but in the world of racing that secures you the title of the bad boy and, in turn, big-name sponsors like Resistance, the largest energy drink company in the United States. 

In another time, Tuanul Tavern would have been the place to be, standing room only on nights like this, but now it remains mostly empty. Ben often wondered how Tekka kept the lights running. 

Jakku County was run on coal for generations until the Crait Coal Mining Company pulled out and shut down. Too many regulations, too much money wasted, and when they left, the town lost its livelihood. A few remained, older people mostly, who had social security checks to keep them afloat. 

Ben had moved here a year ago, knowing it was all but abandoned. It had one grocery store, a gas station, and a post office. He was able to isolate himself almost completely; no one here even looked him in the eyes, not that anyone would. He had become the town pariah, the washed-up son of a legend. His name meant nothing to him or anyone else for that matter, and that's how he wanted it. 

Ben batted his hand at the screen, just as Dameron crossed the finish line a full two car lengths ahead of everyone else. "It's not even fun anymore." 

Despite the efforts made by the car owners and their sponsors, crowds, although still significant in their own right, had declined. No one was as interested in NASCAR anymore, not like they used to be. 

Sure, they had Dameron, but he was one out of a field thirty-five and had absolutely no rivals. His edginess would only take them so far. The high stakes of racing were gone… gone.

"Tuuuuesday's gone with the wiiiind," Ben hummed in time with Lynyrd Skynyrd playing on the ancient jukebox under his alcohol ladened breath. 

He took the last swig of the golden liquid in his bottle before looking back up at the television to see Dameron celebrating with his crew. 

He should be there, no,  _ they _ should be there, together. He allowed the dangerous train of thought to percolate before he half asked but mostly demanded, "Give me another one, old man." 

"I think you've had enough, that's your seventh one tonight."

Ben rolled his eyes and stumbled across the bar, heavy black work boots dragging slightly against the dusty wood floor. He draped his long pale arms over the edge of the counter as his long dark hair fell in front of his amber-colored eyes, hiding away the deep purple circles that stood out against his overly pale skin. 

"Are you going to get it," he asked with a snarl. Ben was always a nasty drunk, and he knew it, but right now, he couldn't care less. 

When Tekka didn't move, Ben reached over the bar, opened the cooler, and pulled out yet another Kessel. He held the bottle of beer in his palm, studying the blue and white faded lettering on the label. 

"Never tell us the odds," he said, then twisted the cap off and took a large gulp downing half the bottle before taking a breath.

"What the hell does that even mean, who came up with this shit slogan?" 

With the back of his hand, he wiped away a dribble of beer from his chin. "I always hated this shit, but Dad," He took a breath before gesturing with the bottle to the portrait hanging on the wall behind the bar, "he loved it, too bad the brand is dying with him. Won't be long. You won't be selling this in here anymore."

Tekka's elderly hand trembled as he reached behind him for the old telephone attached to the wall, "Ben, let me call Leia, or Luke, have them come pick you up." 

Ben snorted. "They don't want to see me." 

"That's not true; they are your family," Tekka said gently.

It was that one word— _ family _ , that ignited a fire in Ben so explosive he felt himself detonate inside. 

A cascade of green, blue, and brown glass exploded and ricocheted against the back wall. A few full bottles of booze were hurled at the TV smashing the screen, causing it to scramble and flicker. He didn't know how long he had stood there, unfurling a barrage of beer bottles at anything and everything before he came back to his senses. Tekka had vanished into the back room, and he now stood alone, staring at his father's portrait. The gentle blue eyes stared back into his as if Han were somehow living inside of it. Ben swore his father was frowning at him and had to blink twice before the classic smirk returned.

"I've had way too much to drink," he slurred to himself. 

"You've got that right, Ben Solo, put your hands up and step back from the bar." 

Before Ben knew it, he was cuffed and shoved into a sheriff's patrol car. 

Ben looked into the rearview mirror to find Officer Zuvio's eyes cutting right into his. He knew that look; it was the same one the man had given him ten years prior when he had pulled up on a bunch of drunk underage kids racing their cars off of route 52. He thought for sure his life was over, but instead of taking him to jail, he took him to his parents, that's the night he had begged him to take him to jail instead. 

"I suppose the media will be here to greet me when I walk out on bail tomorrow morning." 

It was only now that Ben realized they had cut down Kelvin Ravine Road. "You're not taking me to jail?" 

"Ouch, fuck, Jesus!" Ben yelped as his face smashed into the cage divider as the car made a very unnecessary, abrupt stop in the driveway. 

Officer Zuvio opened the rear passenger door and pulled him out by the back of his shirt collar. 

"Why are you doing this?" Ben yelled as he stumbled to find his footing. 

"The first time I let you off the hook Solo was for you, a damn stupid ass kid that had a lot of potential, but tonight, this one's for your poor mother, she's been through Hell... sleep it off. And don't you dare come out of this holler tonight or tomorrow for that matter." 

Before Ben could reply, Zuvio had shut the car door and took off down the dirt road, leaving Ben alone with nothing but the sound of crickets chirping in the light of a full moon. 

The gravel crunched loudly under his boots as he dragged them up the driveway towards a small single-story house that once belonged to his parents, long before his dad had made it big. Ben never even lived here as a child. No, he grew up privileged in Chandrialia, just one county over. He'd come out here with his friends to drink and act well, as Zuvio said, like stupid asses. Leia had blamed Han, of course, for showing him the old dirt track just over the ridge. 

"Probably overgrown now," he murmured to no one stumbling up the stairs of the front porch.

The screen door gave a loud, mournful groan, and without fail, a loud bark followed from the other side of the door. 

"Chewie, I'm coming hold on buddy," Ben called to the elderly dog, but in his drunkenness, his fingers fumbled, and he dropped his keys. 

Ben's forehead smacked against the door as he knelt to blindly scour the floor for the keys. Chewie barked louder and louder, becoming more impatient by the second. A sharp pain shot through Ben's index finger as it caught a snag in the old porch boards, causing a splinter to pierce through the callused skin. 

"Goddammit, hold on, you fucking old as fuck overgrown carpet!"

Finally, he found his keys, and with an additional minute of fumbling, he opened the door. 

Ben barely had it cracked when Chewie bolted, running right between Ben's legs, knocking him flat on his ass, and before he could right himself, his father's dog disappeared into the darkness. 

"Fuck! Chewie!" he yelled, but there was nothing but the crashing of underbrush through the woods. 

"Chewie, come back here right now!" 

There was a pause in the rustling of leaves. 

"Come on, Chew," he called into the darkness, trying to lighten his tone, but as soon as the words left his mouth, Chewie took off deeper into the woods. 

"Fucking figures," Ben groaned as he pulled himself to his feet. 

He was wasted, it was dark, and his dad's dog just disappeared into the woods. 

Even in his drunken stupor, Ben found a flashlight stashed in the junk drawer in the kitchen. After a few good smacks, it blinked to life, and he walked outside into the yard. 

He called for Chewie a few times while using the flashlight to search the treeline, but the only thing he found was two raccoon's eyes glowing back at him. Ben stood at the treeline for a few more seconds, knowing what he had to do.

"I got a bad feeling about this," he murmured before taking a step inside the woods.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again this work has not been beta'd. I know, I don't like publishing without it. Eventually, I'll make the edits. Hopefully its not too bad.

"Rey, hurry up," Finn grumbled out the side of his mouth. 

"Just five more minutes."

"We don't have five minutes, the sun came up thirty minutes ago," he reminded her, _again_. 

Rey blew an escaped strand of hair out of her eyes as she untangled wires from underneath the dashboard. She and Finn hadn't expected to find anything in this part of the county at all, but as Finn so often pointed out, she had a knack for finding unlikely treasures. A lucky pack rat, he always called her, but, in truth, she just had practice. 

Neglected by pseudo parents at overcrowded orphanages, she would often fill her time by climbing into the attic to hide away. It was during those times she would search through old forgotten trunks or boxes for treasure. When she finally turned 18, she and Finn decided to take up "picking" as she called it. Finn always labeled it for what it truly was, stealing. Jakku county had financially taken a dive over the last decade. Families that well off were well weren't and left to find work elsewhere. Those were the lucky ones, the rest, those who had just enough to scrape by, to begin with, either gave up, got into drugs, or the banks came and took what little they had. 

What was left behind was mostly forgotten. Old barns were filled to the brim with old junk, and according to Antique Road Dealers on the Home Improvement Network that she and Finn often watched, people would pay top dollar for it because they considered them antiques. Lucky for her, the banks never came for these places, most were hidden out of sight or too far off the road to get into. The lenders only cared for two things, the houses and the land. 

"Seriously Rey, I got a bad feeling about this, we're too far off the grid, we're gonna get shot by farmer Joe or something. Also, this is not the kind of antiques we steal."

"Pick," Rey answered, not bothering to look away from the bundles of white, red, and yellow wires.

"What?" 

"We  _ pick _ them, Finn, we don't steal. Just hush and let me change the fuse.

"What fuse?" 

Rey sighed and popped open the fuse block, which was conveniently under the dash in this model. "The electric fuel pump is triggered by the powertrain control module, which is activated by a relay and protected by a fuse, which lucky for us I found spares in the glove compartment it'll just be another minute," she explained over her shoulder. 

Finn stared blankly at her for several long moments before he continued, "I do not like this, all they have to do is look up the VIN number." 

"Then, we scratch it off and replace it."

"Ha, you say that as if you've done it before," Finn scoffed, crossing his arms, he pondered for a split second before his eyebrows shot up to his hairline. "Wait, _have_ you done this before?"

But before Rey could answer, the car roared to life louder than either of them had anticipated. Finn's eyes grew as large as dinner plates. 

"Well, if no one knew we were out here before they do now!" he yelled over the engine. 

Rey wanted to laugh, but before she could, she tracked movement out of the corner of her eye. When she pulled herself entirely out of the driver seat, she zeroed in on a big brown heap of fur at the edge of the tree line. As it moved closer, it was clear that it was a large shaggy dog looking as happy as could be though he was covered in briars and bits of leaves. 

As the dog approached, Rey got down on one knee to greet the pup. But as she reached out her hand to give him a pet, he bypassed her as if she wasn't even there and hopped inside of the car, making himself comfortable in the passenger seat. 

Finn and Rey exchanged confused looks as Rey stood and peaked inside. 

"Come on, boy," Rey attempted you coax, but the large mound of fur just looked ahead, not budging an inch. 

"Where do you suppose he came from?" Rey asked, keeping her eyes on the dog. 

"I don't know, but if he's out here, then that means he has an owner nearby," Finn said, looking over the top of her head. 

" I dunno, he's covered in burs and leaves. He has been out in the weeds for a while."

"No," Finn said, placing his hands on his hips," absolutely not, no."

Rey turned her attention back to her friend, clearly affronted, "No, what?"

"You're not taking him home, it's bad enough you're about to commit grand theft auto." 

Rey smirked, "So you are willing to let me take a car, but you draw the line at saving a poor lost puppy in the woods?"

"Puppy? He's the size of a bear!" 

Rey took a breath, preparing to argue her case when a man emerged, running towards her and Finn, yelling, what sounded like, "That's my car!" While cursing and waving his arm. Cold dread ran through her veins as thoughts of mugshots and handcuffs flashed through her mind. There was no explanation she could give as the car was out of the barn and running. 

Finn barely had enough time to register the sound of the angry man's voice before Rey jerked him by the arm and all but threw him inside the car, clear across the driver's side into the backseat. By the time he had up-righted himself, she had slammed the door and floored it causing him to nearly smack his head on the back of the passenger seat. Then without so much as a warning, the car sputtered and died. 

"Oh no," Rey gasped.

"Oh, no! What do you mean Oh, no? Finn yelled.

Wide-eyed, she stared at the big orange engine warning light, "Wrong fuses." 

Rey fumbled with the fuse block with a large lump in her throat as her heart hammered on her ribcage. Finally, it reopened, and she switched out the small rectangular device. 

Finn's face was panic-stricken, beads of sweat had gathered at his brow. "We're going to jail; we're going to jail—

"Shhh, shut it! Let me think!" 

"Think?! You should have done that an hour ago! I told you this was a bad idea!"

Rey could hear the blood whooshing through her ears as she turned the key. The engine whined with each try. She put it into first and double pumped the clutch "I can do this; I can do this--"

Finally, all lights in the dash lit up simultaneously and the car miraculously roared to life, and for a fraction of a second, she felt relief, until—

Two very large hands smacked the driver's side windshield, "Hey! That's my car!!!"

Rey and Finn both screamed in unison, and the dog started barking. The man looked downright crazed, eyes wild and bloodshot, with bits of twigs and leaves weaved through his dark raven-colored hair. But that was the only two things Rey could discern before she once again floored it. This time the car didn't die out. Instead, it flew over the rough unkempt dirt road at a breakneck speed. Whatever type of engine was under the hood was clearly modified and monstrous. 

Rock and dust flung in every direction as she cut through the corners of the road. Rey chanced a glance back at Finn, who had hold of the center console and the back of the passenger seat; his knuckles blanched from the force of his grip. 

"Whoooo, I like this!" Rey yelled as they hit a rather large bump in the road sending the car slightly airborne. 

"Stop enjoying this!" Finn yelled. 

And then they heard it. Even over the roaring of the car engine, the unmistakable sound of a motorcycle? Both Finn and Rey looked at each other, then Rey looked up at the rearview mirror, and her smile fell. 

The man had taken the red and black 1979 Silencer out of the barn and tore off after them. Rey had considered taking it before, but it was a one-seater, and Finn wouldn't have fit. 

Rey switched gears and increased her speed. Finn twisted around completely backward in his seat, peering out the back window.

"Are we really doing this!" he yelled. 

Rey ignored him and focused on the road. She knew it would lead to route 52, and then she could really take off, but she had at least three more miles of backroads ahead of her. The man on the bike kept coming, Rey glanced at her side mirror to find him dangerously close to the rear bumper. What the hell did he plan to do if he caught up to them? A thousand things raced through her mind and landed on the most dangerous thought. What if he had a gun and started shooting? But wouldn't he have done that already? Maybe he was just nuts? By the time she realized he probably wasn't armed, it was too late; he had already made it to the driver's side door. 

"Pull over!" He screamed as he took his fist and pounded the window. 

But Rey wasn't about to give up that easily. She whipped the car to the right, away from him, nearly running into the ditch. Up ahead was a split in the road, and she continued to pull it right, hoping it would still take her back to the main road. To her surprise, the man peeled off to the left. She could still make out the sound of the motorcycle through the trees, and she knew without really knowing the roads would meet up again. If he got ahead of her, he could block them in, and it would all be over. Rey couldn't let that happen; she wouldn't stand for Finn to end up in jail because of her recklessness. The thought spurred her on, taking the car up to speed that would be dangerous on a paved road, let alone a dirt one. One wrong move and they would be in a mangled heap of metal.

"Rey, slow down," Finn called out to her, his tone serious, but riddled with fear. 

"I can't. We'll go to jail!" 

"It's better than being dead!" 

"No!" she yelled back. 

The grove of trees that had separated them from the man thinned out, and she could make out his face once more. His eyes narrowed at her, then he turned his gaze straight ahead, she knew that look, he wasn't going to stop. And then she saw it, the juncture, she and the man were neck and neck, as she pushed through the final stretch. Fine, you want to play chicken, let's play chicken. 

"Put the seatbelt on the dog," she said with a deadly calm. 

"What!" 

"Seat-Belt-Dog, NOW!"

Finn grumbled under his breath, "You've almost killed me- 6 times- this year," as he pulled the belt across the pup's chest. 

Rey slammed the stick into fifth and gripped the steering wheel, "Get ready." 

"For what!" Finn bellowed.

It felt like everything happened in a flash, yet so slow all at the same time. The car became airborne once again as she hit a large pothole. She saw a blur of black hair and a flash of red out of the corner of her eye. She flinched, waiting for the impact, but it never came. Instead, the car bottomed out on the paved road. She barely had time to tap the breaks as she turned left. The rear-wheel-drive spun going nowhere for what felt like forever but finally gained traction leaving fresh black marks as Rey floored it once again, leaving the man on the Silencer in a cloud of burnt rubber. 


End file.
